


Twilight of the Phoenix

by linguistatheart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5546984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguistatheart/pseuds/linguistatheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragged to a barren England by a flighty mother, Bella Swan might have met her angsty match. </p><p>Twilight and Harry Potter crossover that takes place just before OotP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

I blinked my eyes and tried not to yawn as the 747 whines its way towards the runway. My mother, Renee, is squealing and yammering on and on about everything she wants to see on our trip abroad. Personally, I think there are far more fascinating places to visit than Britain. Like the Great Plains of the Midwest. I imagine it’s so plain and unappealing that millions of people flock there and find deeply interesting things about it (and my opinion is not at all colored by the fact that a personality test I took said that if I was a landmark, it would be the Great Plains). It would also be a great change from Phoenix, where we currently live. And maybe I wouldn’t stick out as much there. I’m so pale for a southwestern girl, but I’ve heard people from the Midwest look like they never get any sun at all.

All of a sudden, the plane revs up its engines as we hit the runway, and I am slammed backwards into my seat, hitting my head on the headrest in the process. Great. Now I’ll probably have a headache to go with my whiplash. I massage my temples and try and focus on what Renee is saying.

“...and think of all the shopping we can do Bella! We should get a hundred British flags to decorate our house with so everyone can know about our trip!”

I give a noncommittal grunt to show I’ve been listening, but I don’t bother to point out that our house is so tiny it couldn’t ever hold a hundred flags. And besides, this British thing is just a phase she’ll get over soon and when she does, she’ll want to cover our house with painted plates or something. I decided I really didn’t want to spend the whole flight listening to her talk about silly plans, so I took some Dramamine and waited for the drug to take effect. Eight hours from now, we’ll be landing in the London Airport and heading to Surrey.

Ten hours later...

I was sitting at the window of our second story room at the hotel in Surrey staring out at the town. Funny, I thought England was supposed to be greener. All the grass is brown like they’ve forgotten to water it. I guess the British are terrible gardeners. I hear my mother say something about getting ice, and I take advantage of her absence to unpack, filling the top two tiny dresser draws with my clothes for the next week, then pulled out my book Wuthering Heights by someone named Bronte. I’ve never read it before, but I’ve heard it’s like Jane Austen books, and who doesn’t love a good twentieth century British romance? It only takes me a couple pages to realize this is nothing like Austen - it’s a thousand times better. I love the description of the countryside and I had just started the part with Heathcliff’s childhood when I realized my mother should have been back with ice minutes ago. Frowning, I bent the tip of a page to mark my spot, put the book back in my bag, then walked over to the door but bang my hip on the dresser on the way. Biting my lip, grabbing the spot and feeling like I got shot, I hobble over to the door, only to have it swing open and my mother come waltzing in, shaking the ice bucket like a maraca. She leapt to the dresser, placed the bucket down, and jumped onto the bed, smiling in a way that can only mean one thing. Oh. No.

She giggled and bounced up and down on the bed, folding her hands together. “Oh Bella will you mind? His name is Phil and he’s so sweet and nice and handsome. Oh and get this -- he’s an American! From Phoenix too, can you believe it? He plays minor league baseball and I just really want to go. Please can I go Bella? Pretty please?"

I just stare at her for a minute, amazed that she not only has found a date our first night here, but is also proposing leaving me alone to go on it. Then again, she’s the one who wanted to go on this trip and she should at least be having fun. I shrug my shoulders to show my consent, and endure the hugs and squeals that ensue.

“Oh thank you Bella thank you thank you thank you!” She jumped off the bed, rifled through her suitcase and pulled out her makeup bag. Heading into the bathroom she says, “He’s going to be here in twenty minutes so I’ve got to get ready fast.”

I lazily pulled Wuthering Heights from my backpack. “You made a definite plan? What would you have done if I’d said no?”

Renee’s laugh burst out of the bathroom. “I’d have called him and called it off, silly!” I wouldn’t have left you alone if it had bothered you.”

I seriously doubted that, but decided not to argue. I just kept reading my book and waited for this supposedly great guy to show up to bring my mom on her date. Twenty minutes passed and sure enough, someone started pounding on the door. Renee wasn’t quite ready.

“Bella dear can you get that please? I’m just putting my earrings in.”

I sighed, closed my book, walked over to the door and opened it. Phil, if that was his real name, was standing back a bit nervously, but he tried to shake it off.  
“Hey! You must be Bella. Renee told me so much about you. You know, when we met getting...ice.” He cleared his throat, obviously at knowing how ridiculous it is to go out with someone you spent five minutes talking to. I had to give him props for trying to inflate the situation though. ‘Renee told me so much about you.’ Wow.

He suddenly interrupted my train of thought. “Is Renee ready?”

I shook my head. “Just a minute more.” I feel like I should invite this guy in, but I didn’t want to risk it, so I stood there awkwardly, trying to casually observe this guy and see if he looked like a psycho murderer. Scruffy jacket, green plaid shirt, jeans, and normal shoes. I guess he’s alright, but if Renee doesn’t come back at a decent hour I’m calling the Surrey version of Scotland Yard.

I was just about to abandon all precaution and invite him in the room when Renee finally emerged from the bathroom, looking quite impressive for someone who twenty minutes ago was suffering from severe plane hair.

“Hey Phil!” She exclaimed, putting on her heels. “I see you’ve met Bella already.”

He grinned warmly. “I did. Are you ready to go?”

“Yep! Just let me throw on my coat...oh Bella, where did I put that thing?”

I just indicated to the chair at the desk where she had tossed her coat. She grabbed it, threw it on, and linked her arm in Phil’s. I decided to speak up before she left. “You’ll be back by ten, right?” I hope she caught the warning in my tone -- staying out any later in a foreign country is even more dangerous than going on this date in the first place.

She laughed, a tinkling laugh that told me there would be no curfew tonight. “Bella, that’s only a little over three hours. What kind of date is that?”

I just rolled my eyes and stared out the window at the scenery until the happy couple left. Our window overlooked the parking lot, and once I saw Renee and Phil had pulled out, I turned away from the window, flopped onto the bed and turned on the television. After flipping through the accented channels for about ten minutes, I discerned there was nothing good on TV so I decided to take a walk. As I stumbled down the stairs of the hotel it crossed my mind that going for a walk in a foreign country might be dangerous, but then I figured Surrey had a lower crime rate than Phoenix so I’d be alright.

I meandered off in the general direction of London, wondering if I’d make it to the famed city before my mother returned from her date. At first I actually thought I might make it, but that was before I fully realized how hot it was.

After about fifteen minutes, sweat rolling down my face, I start to look for a place to sit down. I was in the middle of some kind of neighborhood (one of those odd ones where all the houses look alike, you know?) so there were no benches anywhere, and I’ll be damned if I would be caught sitting on the curb of a street whose name was a gross misspelling of the word “private.” I stumbled on for another couple of blocks before I finally saw my salvation: a dingy swing set which sat in the center of a very pathetic, dead little park. The yellow brown grass surrounding the area was so brittle it looked like a field of twigs sticking up from the earth while the playground itself looked as though no one had played on it in weeks, and several of the swings were broken. In fact, only two of the swings, adjacent to one another, remained intact. I started immediately for the swing on the right, completely ignoring the fact that the one on the left was already occupied by a scowling, awkwardly skinny teenage boy with messy black hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bella Swan gets to know the Boy Who Lived...ish

Sitting in the sun was no better than walking in it, so to distract myself from the heat I covertly studied the boy sitting next to me. He was painfully skinny, and it showed with his clothes -- his t-shirt and jeans hung off him as though he was a walking clothesline. His black hair was so unruly I felt certain this boy had never even heard of a comb before, while his green eyes stared morosely at the brown landscape that was before us. The effect was quite ordinary, save a peculiar mark on his forehead. There must have been a trick of the light, because it looked like lightning. Usually such an extraordinary feature would bother me, but this guy was seriously cute, and I figured it wouldn’t kill me to let my standards slide this one time. I watched as his glasses, an odd circular pair taped across the bridge, slide down his nose repeatedly, oblivious of his obvious frustration at having to push them back up where they belonged.

“Stop staring at me!” He snapped suddenly, shocking me out of my harmless perusal.

“Oh! Um, sorry. I wasn’t staring. Well, I guess I was but I wasn’t looking. I mean...I was just trying to distract myself from the heat. That’s all.” Damn. I need to up my cool. I’m embarrassing myself in front of a majorly attractive male.

“You could have chosen a swing farther away from me and ‘distracted’ yourself with something else. The clouds maybe.”

I stared at him completely dumbfounded. “Not really. All the other swings are broken, in case you hadn’t noticed. And there aren’t any clouds." To prove my point, I grabbed a limp chain and swung like Tarzan, unable to sit.

He just smirked. “Obviously. We’re in the middle of a drought, or hadn’t you noticed nothing is growing?” Then he looked at the line of broken swings and his face resumed its usual scowl as he muttered something about a ‘dud’ that I couldn’t quite catch (wow, I never knew the British were so random. Sheesh. Talk about shattered stereotypes). Then, he got off the swing in one swift, jerky movement. As he leapt off, his right foot caught on the ground and he fell, barely catching himself on his arms.

My jaw dropped in disbelief. Not only was this boy kind of cute, but he was also just as clumsy as I was! I had never really been interested in boys, but maybe that was because Phoenix didn’t have any boys with such a marvelous combination resulting in glorious awkwardidity. Clearly, it was time to access Renee’s half of my DNA and get my flirt on -- subtly, of course. I jumped off my own swing, stumbling as I got off but I was careful not to fall. I wanted to be graceful for this boy, but not so much that he thought he was out of my league (clearly, I was out of his, but I wanted to delay his realization of that fact for as long as possible).

“Hey,” I said as soon as I (sort of gracefully) recovered my balance. “This might be a weird question, but do you know where I could get a drink of water around here? It’s a long walk back to my hotel, and I’d rather not die of dehydration.” A slight exaggeration on my part, but I didn’t care.

“Um...” He looked around for a moment as though thinking of a way to get himself out of the situation. When it was obvious that he couldn’t evade my request, he shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah. Follow me.” He jammed his hands in his pockets and stalked off without even waiting to see if I was following. Rude. For all his outward charms, this guy sure was angsty. I jogged a couple steps to catch up with him, then walked next to him although I practically had to keep jogging to keep up. Was he trying to lose me? That was a disturbing thought, so I turned my thoughts to the next matter at hand: what to say now? I would rather die than admit that I was as introverted as my recluse father, but I had no clue whatsoever as to how this awkward silence could be broken. I decided to hell with thinking, and just started to talk.

“Thanks for helping me, you know, get hydrated and stuff.”

He shrugged his shoulders and gave a noncommittal grunt. “It’s something to do.”

What did that mean? Is summer really that boring in England? Or did he find me boring? Maybe that’s why he’s not talking to me like boys usually do. Oh God. Am I uninteresting? Worse, and I ugly? Oh God oh God oh God. Bile rises in my throat, and for a second I think I’m going to throw up. The second I get home, I am giving myself a makeover and getting a new personality. Wait, no. That’s ridiculous. I’m not changing myself for some guy. How unfeministically degrading is that? No. I’m like the Great Plains of the Midwest, dammit, and he’s just going to have to accept that if he expects this relationship to go anywhere.

I stop my train of thought before I start to over-analyze what he said. I hate it when girls superimpose info that’s not really there, and I refuse to do such a demeaning activity. I try another stab at conversation.

“So...what’s your name?”

“Harry.”

Wow. Such a common first name was not going to help me find this kid on Facebook at all. Maybe they don’t have last names on this side of the Atlantic? I ask, “Harry...what?”

I didn’t think it was possible, but his shoulders tensed up even more and it took him a long time to answer. When he did, his voice was clenched as though he was gritting his teeth. “Potter.”

There. What was so hard about that? It was so sexily common, I couldn’t see anything wrong with it. Clearly this guy has self-esteem issues.  
“Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, I’m Bella Swan.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry brings Bella to Privet Drive to get her some water, and they run into Dudley's gang.

It was an epic introduction, marred only by the fact that, like everything else, Harry seemed completely uninterested. He just kept walking and turned the corner onto the street I’d refused to sit on earlier. We passed by three houses that looked as identical as the Olson twins, then turned onto the walkway of the fourth house which looked no different than the three preceding it. A girl could easily get lost in a place like this, with nothing distinguishing the houses -- and no, house numbers do not count as distinguishing. Houses need something truly unique to set them apart, like a lawnful of gnomes or a twenty foot statue of Brad Pitt’s face. I know I’m planning on having two ten foot tall working robots. One will be a pirate, the other a ninja, and they will fight each other until one defeats the other and settles the “pirate vs. ninja” argument once and for all. Then they will freeze at the moment of victory and stand tribute to the epic battle for the rest of time. Or until I move and have to take them apart. Whatever comes first. 

My train of thought it interrupted as we walk inside the house and I fall to the floor thanks to a quasi seizure caused by the ungodly cleanliness that exploded through every part of the house I could see. 

Harry just nudged me across the whiter-than-snow linoleum with his foot so I wasn’t blocking the door and he could close it properly. Then he set about getting me a glass of water. 

Slowly my eyes began to adjust to the blinding scene before me, and I could finally stand and look around vaguely. There were pictures all over the living room, at least fifty in total, and all seemed to feature what must have been a whale wearing a mask made to look like a snotty teenage boy. Wow. Harry’s parents had a weird (and frankly, gross) taste in art. Come to think of it, there seemed to be only strange art in the house, and no pictures of Harry anywhere. This struck me as odd and highly suspicious. Harry certainly didn’t look as though he belonged in such an uber-tidy environment. 

I didn’t want to question my heroic savior of hydration, but all the questions rolling around inside my head were becoming too much to bear. To distract myself (and to keep my mouth from running away with itself) I hastily took a large drink of the water Harry had just placed on the table. 

Too hasty! Too large! I was so enthusiastic about drinking the water I accidentally sloshed it all over my face and splattered it over the surrounding kitchen area.   
“Sorry!” I immediately began trying to mop up the mess with my arm, but because I wasn’t wearing long sleeves all I managed to do was squeegee the water onto the floor. “Sorry!” I exclaim again, and run to the oven to grab a towel. Only the water on the floor must have spread, because on my way back my foot accidentally caught on the water and I slipped to the white floor for the second time that day. 

Luckily Harry, who had been watching this chain of events unfold with an expression of mingled horror and dumbfoundedness, caught me before I actually fell. He then proceeded to steer me towards a beige love seat in the adjacent room and took the towel away from me.   
“I’m going to clean this mess up. Don’t touch anything else. You’ve been enough of a nuisance already.” 

I complied to his command, grateful he was cleaning up for me and saving me from further embarrassment. I hummed happily to myself as I gazed around the spotless room. There was a window to my right which offered a splendid view of the deadened front lawn. There were wilted and crumbling petunia flowers (my mom went through a gardening phase last year, and I have been able to recognize most plants by sight since) lining the path that I hadn’t noticed when we were walking in.   
I also noticed the sun was starting to set, sending ugly hues or orange streaking through the cloudless sky. It made the grass look like it was on fire. I imagined the whole neighborhood was ablaze, about to go up in flames, but it wasn’t long before my fiery vision was thwarted by a group of burly hoodlums who looked like they wanted to give the world a black eye for the hell of it. 

“Thugging.” I remark to Harry, who had just come to stand by the couch, probably to declare his undying love for me. He frowned, unsure what I could possibly mean at such a romantic moment as this, so I pointed out the window. 

He couldn’t help but turn and look at the group of boys sauntering outside, and he immediately froze. “We need to go. Now.” He yanked me up off the couch, pulled me into the garage and out a side door there, and we began to creep down the the side of the yard towards the street. 

I noticed this group of boys, whoever they were, had turned onto the path that led to the very house we had just escaped! “Harry, l-”

He cut me off by clamping his hand over my mouth. “Hush. That’s my cousin and his gang. Trust me, we don’t want them seeing us.” He waited until I nodded, showing I understood the need for silence, then he removed his hand and we continued walking. Harry’s cousin was nearly inside the house and Harry and I had nearly arrived at the street when it happened. More preoccupied with the boy who was holding my hand who had referred to us as “we” than with watching my feet, I accidentally stepped on what was either a large white squirrel or a very small, ugly cat. It let out a hideous banshee screech and streaked off, banging into trash cans all the way down the street. The racket caused one of the boys in the gang to look over and see Harry and I, and he motioned towards us so the rest of them looked over. 

Damn. This is going to take my relationship with Harry back a few steps. I have some serious putting out to do if he’s going to propose any time soon.   
As usual, he was oblivious to my emotional turmoil, and it only took him a split second to drop my hand and yell “RUN!” while sprinting off down the street. I had no choice but to run after him, and the hoodlums took up the chase.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella learns things about Harry she never could have imagined.

We ran for what seemed like endless seconds until we reached the playground where Harry and I had met not too long ago. As we approached the swing set, he stopped suddenly, causing me to run into him and knock us both onto the only remaining intact swing. I don’t know if it was our combined weight or the sheer speed at which we fell, but we caused one of the chains to snap and we fell into the dirt. 

Harry shoved me away from him. “Get off of me. What did you run into me for?” He stood up and dusted off his jeans. “And now there aren’t any swings left. Way to go. First you practically scream at Dudley to make sure he noticed us -- how you could have not seen that cat is beyond me - and now you ruin what little fun was left for the kids in the neighborhood.”

I bit my lip as I stood up. He was right. I am a horrible person. “I didn’t mean to break the swing. You just stopped so suddenly I didn’t have time to swerve around you so we fell. As for the cat, well, to be honest, I was a bit preoccupied with the fact that you were holding my hand. What girl wouldn’t be distracted with a super hot and nice boy holding her hand as he led her to safety? You were like my knight in shining armor. And then I had to go step on that damn cat and spoil everything!” I bit my lip harder. I would not cry in front of Harry. So help me, I would not cry. 

Harry’s expression softened an iota. “Listen, uh, what’s your name again?”

“Bella.”

"Right. Bella. Listen, I’m sorry you’re so pathetic that you thought my being a helpful person meant I was into you, but we’re not a couple. We never could be.”

My heart stopped. Oh. God. How could I live without this wonderful man? How to win him back? I was about to make my retort when Harry’s cousin and his gang arrived. My back was to them, and Harry’s face resumed its stiff and cranky expression as he shifted slightly to address his cousin. 

“Dudley.”

A hideously whiny voice answered him. “Harry. What are you doing with her? And what were you doing bringing her into the house? You know my mother doesn’t like strays.” 

My mouth dropped open in outrage. How dare this Dudley character insult Harry like that! I whipped around to give him a piece of my mind, but lost the ability to speak once I saw him. It was the whale wearing an ugly boy mask!

He sniggered. “She’s stupid too. So stupid I bet she’s one of your lot.” His face got a stickily nauseating look of delight. “Oh, this is too good. What do you think mummy and daddy will say when I tell them you’ve found another one of your lot and brought her back to our house?”

Harry went rigid, and his face assumed a new level of anger I hadn’t seen before, which is saying something. He whipped his hand to his back pocket to grab, I assumed, some kind of weapon to defend me. Instead, he brought out a stick that was about a foot long. Sweat beading on my upper lip, I glanced in terror at Dudley, who I expected to laugh at such a silly defense tool and punch Harry right between the eyes. For the second time in several seconds, I was surprised. Dudley’s face had gone white, and he was eyeing the stick as though it was more dangerous than a lightsaber, though his gang seemed to think it wasn’t a threat.

I stifled a laugh. We had been running from a stupid boy who was afraid of sticks? If that was the case, I needed to help Harry. I spotted a stick lying by my left foot, so I grabbed it and pointed it fiercely at the hoodlums. 

It must have been too short or something, because Dudley didn’t even glance my way; he just kept staring at Harry until his fat nerves gave out. He turned to leave, saying to his friends, “We’ll get him next time. Just you wait.” Grumbling, they followed after him. Stupid lemmings. I turned to Harry and went in for a hug, which he promptly stumbled away from. 

I gasped. “But...we did it! We defeated your cousin! Doesn’t that merit a hug?”

He glared at me. “No. You’re in England. We do not hug strangers.” 

I frowned right back at him. “I’m no stranger. I’ve seen your house and helped scare away your cowardly cousin with a stick. We are clearly great friends, and I think we would make a great couple.” 

He smacked his hand to his forehead. “Bella, we can never be together. Didn’t I tell you that already? Or do you need a hearing aid?”

“Yeah, you told me that already.” I put my hand on my hip. “But that doesn’t mean I understand. You have to have a reason.”

“BECAUSE I-” He cut himself off, then said in a strained voice, “It just wouldn’t work.” 

“Yeah right.” I scoffed at him. “You were going to say something else. What was it?”

Harry seemed to be struggling with himself. “Because..” He paused, turned away, and said through gritted teeth, “Because I’m a wizard. You are clearly not. I was raised with muggles, and it was beyond horrible. I could never fall in love with one.” 

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Did he actually expect me to believe this? I laughed, hoping he would end this joke soon. “Yeah, right. And vampires and werewolves actually exist.” 

He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. “Actually, yes. Beware the full moon.” He pointed to the sky, which showed the faint outline of a complete white circle rising against the setting sun. 

I glanced nervously up, then shook myself out of it. “Fine. Prove it. Do some magic.” 

“Can’t. Wizard law - I can’t do magic outside of school until I’m of age. Shouldn’t have told you really, but something tells me no one would believe you outside of The National Enquirer.”

Anger welled up inside of me, and tears threatened to fall anew. “Fine. Harry Potter, I’m sorry I ever met you, and I’m sorry you don’t even have the guts to tell me the real reason you don’t want to date you.” I stormed off in the general direction of my hotel, then stalked back to give him a final blow. “Boys are so STUPID! You know, I am so glad it’s just me and my mom and we don’t have to worry about any males ruining our lives. And you know what else? I AM NEVER FALLING IN LOVE AGAIN!” 

With that, I ran. I ran through the falling light, down streets that looked vaguely familiar. I was so heartbroken, I tripped every couple feet, but I didn’t let that slow me down. Eventually I made it back to town, and I slowed to a walk and asked for directions to my hotel. The frumpy woman looked at me like I was crazy and pointed to the building we were standing in front of. Oh. I thanked her and ran inside, racing up the stairs to our room. I burst in, looking forward to some time to cry to myself, but to my surprise Renee was back from her date already. 

She was sitting on the bed, looking so happy she was about to burst. “Bella! Where have you been honey? I have such good news, I couldn’t wait to tell you but then you were gone! Where did you go?” I had barely opened my mouth to tell her my heartbreaking story when she plowed ahead anyway. “Oh Bella you’ll never guess what happened tonight!” She paused as though she actually expected me to guess, then said, “Phil and I are going to get married!” She waved her left hand, now sporting a cheap, last-minute diamond ring, in my face. “Isn’t that wonderful? I’m going to be married again! You’re going to have a stepfather! Oh I just knew this trip was a good idea.” She fell back on the bed laughing, gushing about how wonderful this Phil guy was, but I wasn’t listening to her. 

My mother was getting married. To a man she barely knew. Worse, there was going to be a strange man in our home. I was so beyond shocked and dismayed, there were no words to describe it. As I fell onto my bed in a daze, I made a plan for my life. I would stay with my mother through the engagement, but as soon as she and Phil were married my course of action was clear. Hopefully it wouldn’t change my life too much. 

I will go live with my father in Washington.


End file.
